His Son
by ILoveCartoonz
Summary: Stoic thinks about his son and the people involved in his life. One-shot! Drabble-ish. :P


**Disclaimer: Why, Dreamworks?! WWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYY ?! *sniffle***  
**A/N: Hello, fellow fanfiction readers! :) I was reading some How to Train Your Dragon stories last night and decided to write this oneshot! ...This is my first HTTYD fanfic, so please review and let me know what I've done right and/or wrong! Here we go! :D**

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Stoic the Vast was a proud, mighty Viking-he knew this, and so did everyone else. But, it was becoming harder and harder not to crack under the emotional stress he was buried in. Hiccup-why was _Hiccup_ suffering for his ignorance? _He_ was the one to punish-_not Hiccup!_ _Since when did the gods hate the Haddocks so much?_

_"For once in your life, will you please just listen to me?!" _Hiccup had pleaded._** Oh, gods, why didn't I listen?** "You're not my son." _The boy looked so broken-hearted, it killed Stoic on the inside._  
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Stoic had a bitter taste in his mouth. As the chief, he couldn't afford to break down. The villagers of Berk still needed food for the winter. Just because his son-his only son: his _insane, one-of-a-kind, gentle-hearted, intelligent, and ridiculously courageous son_-was still unconscious after a week post the epic battle with the Queen Dragon, didn't mean the red-haired chief would let the village starve. So, instead of wasting his days at home, worrying over Hiccup all day long-which he still did, though he wasn't at the house-he poured all of his energy into working. Working, working, working each day, starting at dawn and ending at dusk. When he got home-and only then-did Stoic allow his tears of guilt and fear run past his cheeks and soak his beard. He would squeeze his son's limp hand as gently as he could, and ruffle his only child's hair, like he used to before Val was killed in a raid so many years ago. And when Stoic, the supposedly "unbreakable" Viking leader, looked at Hiccup's blank, innocent face, and watched the boy's chest rise and fall steadily under his blanket, he _finally_ broke.

_"I'm proud to call you my son,"_ Stoic had managed to tell his wonderful fool of a son. _"Thanks, Dad."_ Hiccup's words were like a kick to the stomach. Stoic didn't deserve forgiveness, and he _knew_ it. **_How in Valhalla did I overlook the incredible blessing that was my son all these years?_**

The other teens visited Hiccup often, whispering apologies and "get well soon" wishes.

The tough girl, Astrid came the most often. She wouldn't say anything; just stood at his son's bedside and watched Hiccup. Sometimes, she brought over fish for Toothless or soup for Hiccup. Even then, she never spoke. Both Stoic and herself knew if Hiccup were awake, he would appericiate the silence. Stoic had a suspiscion Hiccup and Astrid would marry one day, if he ever woke up. He was glad his son wouldn't be lonely for the rest of his life.

Gobber was the only one who truly understood Stoic's predicament. After all, Gobber was Hiccup's godfather. The blacksmith had seen his fair share of injured Vikings, but none had struck him so harshly as Hiccup's case. Stoic could tell just by the look on his face when Hiccup had tumbled through the air and towards the deadly tongues of flames, eager to devour him. After the amputation was performed, both men went to the Mead Hall and got drunk, just to get Hiccup's screams of _sheer agony_ out of their heads. The next morning, both hungover, didn't dare to the other of their nightmares filled with Hiccup's pained yelps. Stoic asked Gobber to make his son's prosthetic leg, because he knew it would help the smithy cope. As he expected, his longtime friend had it done by the next morning. If anyone was more concerned about his son than himself, it would most definitely be Gobber...or _the dragon._

The Night Fury,_ Toothless,_ as Hiccup had named the beast, was always at his son's side, cooing sadly every few minutes, staring at Hiccup's small form. The dragon often nudged the boy's cheek gently, willing him to wake up. The sight was bittersweet, to say the least. Every night, Toothless would climb onto his son's bed, pull Hiccup against his side using his tunic's collar, like a giant cat, and drape his velvety ebony wings protectively over Hiccup. If Stoic even got near his son, Toothless would give him an odd look. It wasn't a glare exactly. Just a hard, unwavering _stare._ _He wondered if that's what_ _he looked like to his son._

**_Toothless is the only one who never leaves,_** Stoic thought sadly, **_The Night Fury is a better guardian than I ever was. And to think, dragons were our __worst enemies, not even a month ago! If only Val were here. She'd know exactly what to do._**

So when his son-_his glorious, amazing, heroic son_-finally woke up, he vowed to himself that Hiccup would always be his son, and he would always pride himself in that fact alone.

_Fin._

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**Sooo, what'cha think? Please review! :) Also, I'd really appericiate it, if some of you guys would check out the poll on my profile. Thanks! :3**


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